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460 Enquiry concerning the Operation of the 
Stage on the Morals of Society, b^ P -rid 
M'Nicoll, 8vo, green morocc „»«*«l*»* - 

NewcasM, 1823 




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A 

RATIONAL ENQUIRY 

CONCERNING 

THE OPERATION 

OF 
ON 

THE MORALS OF SOCIETY. 

VALEAT QUANTUM VALERE POTEST. 

BY DAVID M'NICOLL. 

ifctocastU upon ©gtuj 

PRINTED BY EDWARD WALKER; 

AND SOLD BY MESSRS CHARNLEY, FINLAY, HORN, &C. &C. 
BOOKSELLERS, NEWCASTLE. 

1823. 






n 



This Essay, lately published in successive numbers of The 
Newcastle Courant, is now enlarged, and printed in a more 
convenient form, with the hope of its being rendered more 
extensively useful in the cause of truth and virtue. 

Newcastle upon Tyne, July 1, 1823. 



A 

RATIONAL ENQUIRY. 

I. The Question Stated. 

The imitative arts, as they produce their effects 
by pleasure, and therefore have pleasure for 
their primary intention, are in their nature 
eminently calculated to please. The reason is 
said to be this, — that we naturally love to learn ; 
and, in imitation, our flattered sagacity disco- 
vers a resemblance between two things. Per- 
haps a principal reason is, the richness of having 
two ideas instead of one, as in the use of meta- 
phor. The talent of the imitator must also 
come in for a share, as it strikes with admira- 
tion, and disposes the mind to take an interest in 
any subject whatever, which the artist has cho- 
sen to imitate. It is something peculiar in the 
subject itself, and in its circumstances, that 
alone can beat back the tide of pleasure which 
naturally attends upon resemblance, "and turn 
the whole into a scene of disgust or horror. 

B 



6 

Imitation, then, will please different persons 
according to their different intellectual tastes, 
and moral habitudes and feelings. Still, in every 
instance, imitation tends to please. Hence the 
picture of a rotten tree, or an old house, sub- 
jects of themselves unalluring, gives a charm to 
the fancy. 

Shall we then allow that every thing may 
be imitated ? Have such arts no bounds ? 
May obscene prints, for instance, if ingeniously 
executed, be allowably presented to the public? 
Should poison be called the subject imitated, 
and sweetness the imitation, could any one be 
so enslaved to pleasure as to swallow down a 
mixture of both ? 

Apply this to the theatre, which imitates hu- 
man character and life. The pleasure here is 
allowed to be great. Poetry itself is rich in 
imitation. He, therefore, who personates a 
character by poetic expression and by action, 
presents a double enjoyment to the auditor. 
This, together with its splendid accompani- 
ments, forms a compound of pleasures that 
cannot fail to fascinate; for pleasure, of one 
description or another, is the element in 
which mankind seek to dwell. 

The intense charm of theatrical entertain- 
ments was the very reason why Plato deem- 
ed them dangerous, and on which he built 
all his objections to them. It is true, he 



was the wen-known enemy of poetry in ge- 
neral; but this does not subtract from the 
weight of his opinions when he offers them on 
argument. It only goes to say, that he was not 
always in the right, which, I presume, may be 
said of even the most distinguished patrons of 
the theatre ; yet who would draw the conclu- 
sion, that, therefore, he was no authority. 

Suppose, then, it be proper to imitate certain 
parts of human life, it will not be contended 
that all transactions really occurring, or of pos- 
sible occurrence, may be publiely imitated. The 
position is too monstrous to be dwelt upon for 
a moment. The Greek rules of the drama itself 
point out some things which are forbidden to 
be acted ; not merely because they are deemed 
poetically bad, but because they are morally 
so ; nay, they are pronounced poetically vi- 
cious for the express reason that they are im- 
moral. 

The exhibition, however, of immorality, 
to some extent, is essential to the existing 
stage ; for characters perfectly good, or good 
characters without bad ones associated in the 
same piece, would not possess probability ; a 
circumstance which would destroy the illusion. 
Besides, without the excess and collision of cer- 
tain evil passions, that dramatic interest or ef- 
fect could not be produced, which is professed 
to be the grand excellence of the drama. A 

b 2 



chief Question then occurs, — How far may mo- 
ral evil be thus exhibited with safety, or advan- 
tage to society? 

He who reasons on this question from what 
is peculiar to the authority and substance of 
the Christian System, as distinguished from 
every other, encounters difficulties in the out- 
set. Infidelity denies his principles, and the 
truth of Christianity must be agreed upon be- 
tween the parties, before they can advance a 
single step in the argument. Should they de- 
cide the previous question against the Sacred 
Scriptures, they might then, perhaps, unite to 
follow pleasure, on the maxim, — " Let us eat 
" and drink, for to-morrow we die." Though 
should the infidel allow of patriotism and huma- 
nity, as the meeting place of conflict, it would 
be quite possible, in my opinion, to resist, on 
this comparatively narrow field, with ruin to 
his cause, any defence which he might make 
in behalf of the theatre. 

Suppose again they should unite in em- 
bracing Christianity, it might still be a ques- 
tion, — Are we agreed as to what this system 
is? For example, if the one assumes love 
to God as a ground of his objection to the 
theatre, and explains himself as to his con- 
ception of this love, that it implies, among 
other things included in supreme attachment, 
the liveliest joy to see the honour of the divine 



name held sacred among men, and the most 
sensitive alarm and sorrow at the contrary ; 
properties which, in their proportion, belong 
essentially even to that love which a man owes 
to his friend in civil society ; the other proba- 
bly replies by saying, — What you call Jove to 
God, I call downright enthusiasm. And here 
again the argumentation is at an end. 

Or, should it be prolonged, with some good 
accidental reasoning on either side, the parties, 
finding their feet not fixed upon the rock of 
proper data, beat the wind instead of reaching 
their respective objects ; severally seizing, with 
clamorous avidity, on some inferior part, be- 
cause it is vulnerable, and treating it at great 
length. But do they forget the body of the 
reasoning ? O no ! That must be touched, for 
here lies the policy of doing the thing com- 
pletely. 

He who fights against the theatre, perhaps 
goes on to dogmatize, as if his own naked opi- 
nion were sufficient to give law to the public ; 
and it is well if he does not assume a manner of 
illogical dictation amounting to overt acts of 
uncharitableness ; and thus his well-meant en- 
deavours only injure the cause he means to 
support. On the other hand, his opponent, in- 
stead of arguing dispassionately. and candidly,' 
or ceasing to argue at all when he thinks con- 
tempt should fill the chair of reason, strives * 



10 

be somewhat witty and flagellant, in a plentiful 
use of the terms cant, saintship, puritanism, 
hypocrisy, &c. But as morality at large, in- 
cluding the recognition of the Christian Scheme, 
as to those of its parts and properties in which 
the professing world are agreed, presents pro- 
bably an arena into which all who concern 
themselves with the controversy may most con- 
veniently enter, it is but consistent with this 
common ground, that the dispute be conducted 
with equal fairness on both sides. 

I shall beg the candid indulgence of the 
reader to the joint force of the whole of 
the following Remarks. They will chiefly re- 
fer — To the direct tendency of theatrical ex- 
hibitions of vice, — to those principles of the 
drama on which these exhibitions in particular, 
and the theatre in general, are professed to be of 
use to the morals of society, — and to miscel- 
laneous Arguments and Reflections connect- 
ed with the subject 



II. On the Direct Tendency of Dramatic 
Exhibitions of Vice. 

We think the representation of that which is 
intrinsically criminal, or improper, is, not ab- 
solutely, and in every possible instance, but as 



11 

commonly shewn upon the theatre, of very perni- 
cious tendency. 

We think so, in the first place , from the na- 
ture of dramatic personation. Some passions, 
indeed, may be properly embodied by the 
arts, or otherwise, for deliberate examination ; 
others are, in their own nature, when exhibit- 
ed, so insidious and contagious, that all moral- 
ists agree to urge, in regard to them,— Your safe- 
ty lies in flight. With such it is extremely ha- 
zardous to tamper, though under the design of 
strengthening our virtue by the mock encoun- 
ter. Agreeably to this distinction, St. Paul, 
referring to one description of such passions, 
says, " Flee youthful lusts," which, we are 
elsewhere informed, " War against the soul." 

Now we are affected in proportion to the 
breadth and colour with which a subject is pre- 
sented to our perception. A subject affects 
with but comparative slightness by means of 
the thoughts. Written words and sentiments 
are signs which involve a still more impressive 
medium. The same subject, supposing it to be 
within the art of the painter, would touch yet 
more powerfully if presented to the eye in a 
picture. The naked force of oratory might 
further add to its influence. But exemplified 
by the living imitation on the stage, the effect 
is most powerful ; especially as the whole re- 
ceives a peculiar augmentation of effect from 



the action. There is thus a material difference 
between a play perused in the closet, and seen 
as performed. 

In whatever way we chuse to present any in- 
stance of moral evil to the consideration of 
others, it is our duty to stop short of seductive- 
ness. In doing so, we ought to observe a scale 
of impression, fixed, I think, by the experi- 
ence, good sense, and morality of all the wor- 
thier part of mankind. As to the language of 
a wicked man, for instance, it might be such 
as, read in private, would merely address itself 
to the understanding, ox fancy ; but spoken by a 
public actor, would reach the passions. The 
same base individual might again use terms, an 
account of which, and of the character express- 
ed by them, might be given with propriety, as 
an epic poet does when he speaks in his own 
person, but which would not be decent or pro- 
per to be written verbatim et literatim. He 
might even proceed to such expressions, 
cruelties, and abominations* as to render it 
impossible to describe them at all with deco- 
rum. It was, no doubt, this danger of acting 
wickedness which gave rise to the observation 
of Plato, " That the poets should be obliged 
" to imitate good characters, or not to imitate 
" at all."* 

* Rep. iii. p. 401 B. 



13 

Now passions of the above dangerous descrip- 
tion are of the very essence of the modern the-* 
atre, as acknowledged and lamented by its best 
and warmest friends. Christianity, which has im- 
proved all other institutions, affords, it would ap- 
pear, no counteraction to this tendency of the 
stage ; the antient drama, with few exceptions, 
being, in this respect, comparatively pure. A 
heathen audience thirsted for intellectual en- 
joyment : we are sensual, and must be enter- 
tained with shows and tricks, and corrupt- 
ed and perverted passions. Nay, the author of 
the Poetics, with all his love for tragedy, is 
very sensitive even on the subject of painting, 
as endangering the morals of youth. He says, 
" Young men should not be permitted to con- 
" template the works of Pauson, but those only 
" of Polygnotus, and of other artists, who ex- 
" celled in moral expression."* It may also 
be observed, that what is originally innocent 
will sometimes be morally injurious in the copy. 
Might any common courtship, though proper 
in itself, be indiscriminately shewn to youth ? 
What then is the neutralizing circumstance that 
makes the dramatic imitation safe and useful ? 
I now submit, whether this argument does 
not receive much additional strength from a 
second view of the subject — that of the corrupt 

De Rep. viii. 5. 
C 



14 

state of society. The theatre is allowed to be a 
place of hazardous enchantment, even for those 
who yet are uncontaminated by temptation. Sir 
Walter Scott himself, a distinguished friend 
of the stage, (for I will not alarm the reader 
with puritanical authorities), in his elegant Dis- 
sertation on the Drama, when speaking of the 
immoral influence of genteel comedy in parti- 
cular, makes the following concession : — " It 
" is not so probable that the Beggar's Opera 
" has sent any one from the two shilling gal- 
" lery to the highway, as that a youth entering 
" upon the world, and hesitating between good 
" and evil, may, for instance, be determined 
" to the worse course, by the gay and seduc- 
" tive example of Lovemore, or Sir Charles 
" Easy." This one sentence, from so eminent 
a judge, speaks volumes. 

What then must be the effect of the system, 
bearing down with repeated, and accumulated 
strength, upon the corrupt and abandoned part 
of the populace ? It remains, however, to be 
shewn, that such vicious persons come in any 
great numbers within the range of theatrical 
influence ; for some well intentioned persons, 
who resort to this amusement, find it difficult 
to believe, that the company with whom they 
mix is very generally immoral ; is not, indeed, 
respectable. Respectable and moral are epi- 
thets of widely different import. That persons 



15 

of respectability, as the civil custom of society 
terms them, are frequently at perfect variance 
with Christian morals, is most evident from the 
single instance of allowed intoxication ; to omit 
several other instances of immorality, of which 
a gentleman, in this charitable world, may con- 
tinue to be guilty, and yet maintain a character 
confessedly respectable. 

That, in many cases, vicious characters con- 
stitute the body of the theatrical assemblage, is 
acknowledged by the above high authority, who 
observes of the London theatres — " That un- 
" iess in case of strong attraction, prostitutes 
" and their admirers usually form the principal 
" part of the audience." The same may be 
said in lower, but proportionate degrees, of 
theatres in the country. Whatever be the cause 
of this corrupt assemblage, the fact is the same. 
Indeed, if the theatre be a place precisely suit- 
ed to the relish of the immoral classes of soci- 
ety, and only not quite so much adapted to the 
taste of those of an opposite description, (whe- 
ther this taste in either case be sound or not, 
is here of no consequence), it follows, that the 
majority of the audience will be at least of defi- 
cient character on the score of Christian morals. 

This has been illustrated, I think very happi- 
ly, in some such manner as the following. Let 
the moral genius of the theatre be ascertained, 
as poisoned waters have sometimes been tested 

c 2 



16 

by the introduction of a healthy fish into the 
fountain, which fish has betokened the suspect- 
ed fact, by shewing a certain restlessness or lan- 
guor. Let a person, for instance, of cultivated 
piety and morality, attend on the services of 
religion ; he is perfectly at home, he is happy. 
Introduce him to the theatre. Is he now in his 
element ? Does he enter with a genuine and 
vigorous joy, into all that is passing ? A person 
of this character, if we even suppose him capa- 
ble of sometimes resorting to the theatre, as an 
innocent amusement, so denominated, cannot 
possibly admit of that delightful absorption of 
his faculties in this pursuit, which he allows in 
those grand duties of life that are perfectly con- 
genial with his virtuous inclinations. He will 
abandon it the moment he finds it forfeiting, 
by an excessive excitement, either of the spi- 
rits or of the passions, the character of an ex- 
hilirating relaxation. Nor will he be always 
at the play even w 7 hen he requires to be amu- 
sed. Other recreations w 7 ill, with him, have 
their turn, and that in proportion to their com- 
parative degrees of importance. Were it not 
so, he would seem to be the slave of this single 
enchantment, which is contrary to the virtues 
we suppose him to possess. Pleasure is not his 
business, and the theatre will not be a place of 
his much desired resort. Considerations of ex- 
pence, &c. which the vicious, in their love of 



17 

this amusement, overleap at one free bound, 
will frequently detain him from this scene of 
gratification. Remember, I do not grant the 
virtuous instance in question ; but merely sup- 
pose it for the sake of argument, because it is 
in favour of those who plead for the drama. 

Now, let us behold a person of abandoned 
character and habits. Lead him to church or 
chapel. Is he interested and delighted ? That 
is impossible. Conduct him to the play, and 
what do you perceive ? Listlessness and un- 
concern ? No, indeed ! The man is in an ex- 
tacy of pleasure. When he sat in the church, 
his thoughts were sometimes in the theatre ; 
now he is in the theatre, are his thoughts gone 
to church ? Nor is this a fancied view of the 
subject : it is matter of established fact. Now, 
on this principle of moral taste, neither church 
nor theatre, will be a common ground of meet- 
ing between these two characters. In other 
cases they may associate, and with mutual sa- 
tisfaction, as to transact affairs in trade ; but 
at the appearance of some grand moral test, 
they will naturally separate. Should each then, 
on some extraordinary occasion, be found in 
the place, (church or theatre), which stands 
opposed to his moral preference, it will arise 
from some subordinate consideration, and not 
from the general spring and character of the 
mind. There are, however, obvious reasons 



18 

why immoral persons may be expected more 
frequently to visit churches, than good men 
the theatre. 

The inference deducible from these obser- 
vations, is, that, generally speaking, the thea- 
tre will be the resort of vitiated characters. 
Nor is it an argument against this, that num- 
bers who attend the play, are very far remo- 
ved from the most vicious of the audience ; 
and are comparatively decent and respectable ; 
for moral evil can subsist in a multiplicity of 
modifications and degrees, among those who, 
far from avowing the principles of the infidel, 
yet are greatly destitute of Christian morality, 
ox piety, and would indeed feel some shame to 
be considered as much concerned about it. 

That society is in a state of actual corrup- 
tion is indisputable \ and the argument is the 
same, whatever be the origin of the mischief. 
If it be acquired merely by example, as some 
affirm, I should think this is not much in fa- 
vour of fictitious specimens of moral evil ; and 
one great advocate of the stage expressly at- 
tributes human depravity to the principle of 
imitation.* If it be the developement of some- 
thing properly original, innate, and radicated 
in the character ; thus presenting a material 
highly combustible to the fire of temptation, as 

* See Fellowes's Christian Philosophy, p. J.22. 



19 

the Scriptures, in my opinion, have put beyond 
all just exception ; it may then be judged, a 
priori, what would be the effect of a theatrical 
picture of immorality moving with seductive 
life before the eye of the vicious, even on the 
supposition that some corrective circumstances 
accompanied the representation. The heart is 
more likely to sympathize with that part of the 
exhibition which is the entertaining archetype 
of its own character, than with that which is 
pure and good ; as the steel leaves other sub- 
stances with which it is but loosely combined, 
and rushes on the magnet. And this chiefly 
because of the pleasurable imitation ; for the 
same evil judiciously set forth in words, or in- 
cidentally discovered in real life, would proba- 
bly produce a very different, and much more 
salutary effect. 

Historv abounds with instances of moral 

1/ 

evil ; but these are not to be compared with 
dramatic pictures of this kind. I recur to the 
scale of impression referred to above, and ask, 
is there not an obvious — an essential difference 
between narrative and action ? Besides, as the 
chief design of history is not to entertain, but 
to instruct, it is by no means so liable as the 
drama to stray from the path of utility. Ard 
the frequently unnatural and false outline and 
structure of fictitious characters, which Sir 
Walter Scott particularly charges on the 



German stage, must be dangerous in the last 
degree ; such virtues and vices as are, in truth f 
and fact, incompatible attributes of the same 
person, being sometimes found in combination ; 
lasciviousness, for instance, with modesty ; not 
a modesty intended as the mask of hypocrisy, 
but as an integral part of the man. And what 
will any Christian say of soothing allusions to 
the eternal rest and peace of a dramatic charac- 
ter, who died, perhaps covered with sin, and 
in the spirit of revenge ? 

It now appears, that corrupt examples on the 
stage act upon a huge mass of similar corrup- 
tion. And when we consider how naturally, 
and without assistance, this corruption over- 
swells its banks, and demands suppression ra- 
ther than the help of dramatic genius, and 
songs, &c. to open the way for its highest tide 
and spread, one is tempted to ask, in the sin- 
gular language of a living writer, " Who would 
" add momentum to an avalanche from the 
" Andes, or accelerate the bolt that speeds 
" from the secret place of thunder ?" 

The vicious character of plays in general is a 
third argument on this subject. This charac- 
ter is either essential or incidental. . It appears 
that the essential rules of the drama, as invent- 
ed by the antients, require at least a hazardous 
exhibition of bad sentiments and passions. It 
has indeed been thought quite possible to con- 



21 

struct a tragedy or comedy which might be in- 
nocent and edifying. This was the opinion of 
the celebrated Richard Baxter. What sort 
of theatre it would be, which should exhibit 
nothing truly dramatic, or resembling real life, 
— nothing, or next to nothing, of moral evil, 
contrasted with its opposite, — nothing of the 
pungent interest which arises from depth of 
plot and passion, it is difficult to say. It might 
be edifying, as preceptial and declamatory, em- 
ploying dramas something like the fourth kind 
of tragedy specified in the Poetics, as chiefly 
sentimental, and which the great critic deems 
the most insipid sort of tragic writing ; yet in 
this kind of acting there would probably be 
something tame and uninteresting on the whole, 
as an affected imitation of reality. It would, 
however, be essentially different in its abstract 
principles as an art, from the theatre as invent- 
ed by ^Eschylus, and transmitted to modern 
times. The true character of the Christian, 
shewing meekness under insults, forgiving his 
enemies, and humbling himself with uncom- 
plaining, unimpassioned submissiveness to the 
tempestuous Providence of heaven, would make 
but a sorry figure before a popular audience. 
The actual stage, then, in its best and purest 
forms of Grecian moral, we think, is dangerous, 
because the principles of its very structure and 

D 



22 

being, require that it present the living image 
of palpable wickedness. 

What then shall we say of the multitudes of 
plays which contain much more of wickedness 
than the rules demand, and wickedness indeed 
in contrariety to the rules ? We need not ap- 
peal to the entire history of the drama for the 
proof of this. The writings of its most distin- 
guished and respectable defenders concede and 
lament the fact. The mighty Shakespeare, 
with a genius truly marvellous, and intellectual 
beauties more than matchless, cannot be indis- 
criminately read in any decent family ; and he 
is acknowledged to be by far the purest of all 
nis contemporaries. In the time of the second 
Charles, the stage became still worse, and pre- 
sented a series of comedies which Sir Walter 
Scott allows were " Fitter for a brothel than 
" for the library of a man of letters." After- 
wards, in the days of Congreve, affairs were 
not mended. The elegant writer, and candid 
friend of the stage, above quoted, says of the 
comic writers of this period, " They form a ga- 
" laxy of talent scarce to be matched in any 
" other age, and which is only obscured by 
" those foul and impure mists which their 
w pens, like the raven wings of Sycorax, had 
" brushed from fern and bog." With what 
superior wit, and sense, and learning, Jeremy 
Collier swept them at least from the stage of 



23 

controversy, extorting penitent submission from 
Dryden himself, the prints of that time still 
sufficiently declare. " At the perusal of Col- 
" lier's Satire/' adds Sir Walter, " men 
" started at the mass of impudence and filth 
" which had been gradually accumulated in 
4< the Augean stable of the theatre during the 
" last reigns." And when another Collier 
shall arise to dissect the plays which have since 
appeared amongst us, it will then, but not till 
then, be seen, with some conviction on the 
public mind, that we have not materially im- 
proved in the morality of stage-playing. Gross 
indecencies have been abated -> but all the per- 
nicious seductiveness remains. 

Indeed, it always will be so while the morals 
of society continue in a state of corruption ; be- 
cause the stage must conform to the taste of the 
people. This conformity is not denied, but is 
freely acknowledged, and often used as an ex- 
culpation of the poet and the player. This has 
been the case from the beginning, as the author 
of the Poetics himself admitted the objection ; 
and Lewis Vives* informs us, that " Comedy 
" treats of the knaveries and tricks of love, be- 
" ing brought into it by Menander, to please 
" the Macedonians that stood affected to such 
" passages." Modern critics make no hesitation 

* See his Notes on St. Augustine, p. 59. 
D 2 



24 

in confessing this mischievous property of the 
theatre, among whom Mr Pope observes, in his 
preface to Shakespeare, " It must be allowed 
" that stage-poetry of all others is more particu- 
" larly levelled to please the populace." Mo- 
liere has tortured the character of Alcestes, in 
the Misanthrope, purposely to excite laughter, 
and laughter too of the most pernicious tenden- 
cy, considering the qualities of simplicity and 
goodness which are frequently the subject of it. 
This, we think, is admirably proved and illus- 
trated by Rousseau.* 

Hear again, from the prologue written by 
Dr Johnson, and spoken by Garrick, at the 
opening of Drury-Lane Theatre, in 1747 : — 

" Ah ! let not censure term our fate our choice, 
" The stage but echoes back the public voice ; 
" The drama's laws the drama's patrons give, 
" For we that live to please, must please to live." 

A still more striking, nay, shocking evidence 
of theatrical compromise, the public will re- 
member, took place some years ago, when it 
was regularly proposed to effect some altera- 
tions in one of the London theatres, for the 
purpose of excluding a certain class of females, 
from that part of the house ; and when the 
proposal was rejected for this reason, — that the 

* See his Thoughts on Different Subjects, vol. II. p. 7. 



25 



measure would occasion the absence of multi- 
tudes of the other sex, who visited the theatre 
on purpose to meet w T ith this description of com- 
pany. At the time when the horses were in- 
troduced upon the London stage, Mr Sheridan 
observed in parliament, that a taste so vicious 
was not to be ascribed to the managers ; but to 
a luxuriant state of society, in a country a- 
bou riding with riches, and fastidious in its en- 
tertainments. Such managers would not pro- 
bably be over anxious to contradict the moral 
taste of the people. 

Other evidence on this particular will not be 
asked, otherwise an abundance might be pro- 
duced, and from the same indisputable autho- 
rities, authorities all ranged on the theatrical 
side of the argument A strange state of things, 
by the bye, as the theatre, according to the 
English editor of Riccoboni, " Has ever been 
" esteemed the best school for polishing and 
" improving the manners of a people." It 
would seem the scholars have rebelled against 
the master and his ushers, and dictated the les- 
sons most to their own liking. 

Now, I ask, is there the shadow of this flat- 
tering and pernicious suppleness in Christiani- 
ty ? Are not its fallible ministers, whatever be 
their differing opinions on other points ; or, in- 
deed, whatever be the private character of in- 
dividuals of their body, unanimous in publish- 



26 

ing the purest morality ? Whoever knew of a 
minister preaching revenge, and pride, and las- 
civiousness ? Such is the dignity of sacred 
truth ! Itself thus immaculate, and unbending 1 
as the pillars of the earth, it must stamp with 
its own authoritative reprobation, a system 
which, as in the case before us, can plead self- 
convicted of lowering that lofty standard of 
moral purity which the Eternal has planted by 
his own right hand ; and can still, to please and 
live, (O God have mercy !) repeat and dejend 
the desperate presumption ! 

And while the audience hold themselves in 
possession of this sovereignty, we may judge 
of the nature of the tasks to be imposed on the 
performers. And from this action and re-ac- 
tion of the parties, we might farther predict 
what would be the alarming consequence as to 
the state itself, did not some counteracting ele- 
ments mix in the composition of civil society. 
Hence, though a certain policy has led to the 
legal toleration of theatres, governments have 
still considered them as evils to be carefully 
watched and restricted. At the restoration, 
even our dissipated Charles found it prudent 
to limit them to two for the metropolis. Had 
they been schools of virtue and good manners, 
it would have been excellent policy to multiply 
them by hundreds, 

In the fourth place, we observe, that the im- 



27 

posing circumstances of the theatre, the orato- 
ry, the decorations, the music, &c. give prodi- 
gious effect to the characters and manners re- 
presented, and by consequence to the moral 
evil exhibited. The critical Rapin concedes, 
" That in the theatre, the heart yields itself 
" over to all the objects proposed to it ; that 
" all images affect it ; that it espouses the sen- 
" timents of all who speak ; and becomes sus- 
" ceptible of all the passions presented to it, 
" because it is moved."* Now is not this suf- 
ficient to throw the mind from its balance? 
" Amid this general dance and ministrelsy, ,, 
will the heart, perhaps already greatly corrupt- 
ed, regulate the general effect, so as to resist 
the undue impression of what is evil, and care- 
fully select that small portion of moral good 
which comes floating like a straw upon the ge- 
neral tide ? If persons of rank, or education, 
accustomed to splendour, or reflection, should, 
from their intellectual strength, maintain some 
superiority, and fixture of mind, will this be the 
case with the inferior parts of the audience ? 
Indeed the swollen grandeur of the whole is cal- 
culated to operate on the romantic and aspir- 
ing notions of multitudes in every rank of so- 
ciety, in awakening morbid sensibilities and 
wishes, and in returning them .to the low vale 

* See his Reflections on the Poetics, 



28 

of ordinary life, dissatisfied, if not disgusted, 
with its plain and unadorned realities. 

Again, the great influence of strong and gra- 
tifying impressions, frequently repeated on the 
mind of youth, in forming the character by 
slow and almost unconscious degrees, must be 
obvious to every thinking person. By the dra- 
matic representation, ibr instance, of a brave 
but revengeful personage, admiration is excited; 
an admiration greatly heightened by the plea- 
surable emotions of the evening. Thus the seed 
of similar revenge is sown in the unguarded 
heart, which may neither be of immediate, nor 
of rapid growth ; but which, when injury is felt, 
will shew itself in the same loftiness of honour- 
able resentment, so called, and give, perhaps, 
a determination of this kind to the character 
through life. The same might be said of other 
passions which need not here be specified. That 
the mind takes its tincture from the subjects 
with which it is particularly conversant and de- 
lighted, is no new discovery. Demosthenes 
remarks, " In my opinion, it is altogether im- 
" possible that those who are occupied, for ex- 
" ample, in matters of trifling import and un- 
" worthy of their attention, should ever pos- 
" sess an elevated and vigorous turn of mind ; 
" for it must necessarily follow, that of what- 
" ever nature be the pursuits of men, such will 
" be their sentiments and inclinations.' * 

* OXvv6. B. 2. 



L 29 

It is therefore incorrect to suppose, that the 
theatre has no pernicious tendency, because the 
whole audience do not, on their dismissal from 
the play, immediately, unanimously, and vio- 
lently proceed to the full degree of delinquen- 
cy of which man is capable ; as if moral causes 
produced their effects with the same certainty 
and promptitude which are observed to attend 
the operation of causes in the physical world. 
Temptations the most gross and powerful do 
not always take effect. Shall we, therefore, say 
that they have no tendency to mischief? Ts 
there no danger in the field of battle, because 
some are merely wounded, and some escape 
unhurt ? Nothing could be more vile and de- 
moralizing than the religious rites sometimes 
observed in several of the Grecian temples, yet 
numbers, it is well known, maintained, notwith- 
standing their attendance there, a conduct such 
as we sometimes describe as a life of common 
decency. Some have led the life of a drunkard 
for nearly fourscore years, but what physician 
will aver that drunkenness has no tendency to 
destroy the constitution of the frame ? " Those 
" deceive themselves extremely," observes the 
Prince of Conti, " who think that plays make 
" no ill impression on the mind, because they 
" do not find them excite any .formed evil de- 
" sire. There are many degrees before one 
" comes to an entire corruption of the heart ; 

E 



30 

" and it is always very hurtful to the soul, to 
c * destroy the ramparts which secured it from 
" temptation. One does not begin to fall when 
" the fall becomes sensible ; the fallings of the 
" soul are slow, they have their preparations 
" and progressions, and it often happens that 
" we are overcome by temptations only by our 
" having weakened ourselves in things which 
" seemed of no importance ; it being certain 
" that he who despises little things, shall fall 
" by little and little/* 

The immoral consequences of the theatre 
will not probably be so immediate and notori- 
ous in persons of repute and decency, who 
have fixed upon their minds the conviction of 
its innocence, and have accustomed themselves 
to enjoy its impressions, as in the case of those 
who secretly suspect, or admit its evil tendency, 
and yield to the tempter. In this last instance, 
the energies of the soul are roused by a strug- 
gle, which, if it be determined on the wrong 
side, may speedily be followed by overt acts of 
crime ; because those energies continue, impel- 
ling the mind to action after its choice has been 
decided ; as he who attempts to reach a cer- 
tain point may, from his vigour and impetuosi- 
ty, run considerably beyond it. But the former 
case involves no opposition. All is peaceful, 
harmonious, and uniform. The heart and its 
allowed amusements move consentaneously in 



m 

the same direction. The mischief, however, is 
not the less effectual and diffusive. It makes a 
silent but certain way to the inmost soul of the 
man, and feeds and strengthens the more cor- 
rupt elements of his character ; a character, 
perhaps of common, not of Christian morality ; 
the character, indeed, of those whom St Paul 
describes as " Lovers of pleasure more than 
" lovers of God." This idolatrous excess of 
pleasure will be cherished by the theatre. The 
most that can be said is, that this fashionable 
sort of morality is not materially affected by it. 
Still the theatre serves to rivet the dreadful chain 
of sinfulness and curse which is unconsciously 
sustained. There may be a hidden process of 
iniquity where there is no monstrous burst of 
passion, or of actual disobedience to the autho- 
rity of God* For instance, the calm and con- 
stant grasp with which pride or envy holds the 
human spirit is, in some respects, more mischiev- 
ous than paroxysms of anger, and always more 
deceptive. 

Perhaps some friends of the theatre will ad- 
mit the existence, to some extent, of the ten- 
dency in question, but will rest the cause on 
certain principles of moral effect interwoven 
with the drama, which are presumed to give 
the whole a virtuous turn ; as the law of gravi- 
tation acts upon the planets, and attracts them 
from their projectile inclination into orbits of 

e 2 



m 



surprising regularity and usefulness. The 
testing of these principles will be the subject of 
another section. 



III. Of the Principles of Moral Effect attributed 
to the Drama. 

It was observed, that certain principles of 
effect, interwoven with the drama, are profess- 
ed to lay the system, and especially acted spe- 
cimens of bad character, under ample contribu- 
tion to the moral improvement of society. It 
remains to offer some remarks on the inefficien- 
cy of these principles. 

In the .first place, much imposing disquisition 
has been written to shew, that the tragic ex- 
citement of terror and pity tends to purify the 
passions. This was originally asserted by the 
celebrated author of the Poetics, but was not 
by him very fully illustrated. Hence his com- 
mentators and disciples have widely differed on 
the subject ; some thinking the purgation refer- 
red to pity and terror only, and others that it 
reached through these two passions to all the 
rest ; one party contending that it involved the 
simple tempering of both, and another that it 
went to dispossess the soul of their very exis- 
tence. Certain critics deem it nothing more 
than the result of the moral lesson of the tragic 



33 



scene. And some eminent expounders of the 
stage have denied the fact of this purgation al- 
together.* 

What great use would arise from being freed 
from pity, would be difficult to point out. Nor 
is the moderating of these passions of the first 
importance in the moral process. If the great 
bearing of the theatre went, with some success, 
to curb the selfish passions of pride, sensuality, 
and covetousness ; and to strengthen and ex- 
pand the whole train of the benevolent ones, 
there would then be some colour for these lofty 
pretensions of the ..stage. We deny not, that 
for the time, a certain soothing, softening, plea- 
surable melancholy may be diffused through the 
soul, by the feeling of pity artificially excited ; 
but that this will improve, in real life, the pity 
of the man whose general principles are bad, 
we cannot understand. It is neither explained 
nor proved. Nor does the fact confirm it ; for 
it is commonly remarked, that those who are 
most attached to works of fiction, and can weep 
most plentifully at scenes of imaginary woe, are 
frequently, of all others, the most insensible, at 
least to the practical effect, of scenes of ge- 
nuine distress. Accustomed to the high sea- 
soning and excitement of the theatre, the com- 

* See Manwaring on the Classics ; Twining's Notes on 
the Poetics ; Essay on the Theatre, &c. 



M 

mon food of pity, furnished in the afflictions of 
real life, loses much of its stimulating property, 
or perhaps becomes distasteful. It may here 
be added, that a moderate excitement improves 
the habit of the feeling, while excess commonly 
terminates in morbidness and apathy. 

The pleasure of this tragic emotion, it is pro- 
bable, is the chief design of the auditor, and 
hence he is not likely to go beyond his object. 
How then can the pleasure which is indulged 
on a principle of selfishness, issue in the gene- 
rosity of a genuine tenderness ? This self-amu- 
sing auditor will take pretty good care that his 
favourite prejudices and vices, which used to 
corrupt his fear and pity, shall not be dismissed 
on his return to common life. 

Now, one single instance of this kind, I 
think, would be sufficient to throw discredit on 
the theory. Christianity can never Jail to ef- 
fect the highest moral purification in the mind 
that fully yields to its embuing influence ; the 
evil lies in repelling this sacred energy, even 
among those who make profession of its princi- 
ples. But behold a man beneath the awful so- 
vereignty of the tragic scene. He has entered 
the theatre with the wish to be conquered. He 
is the willing, the delighted subject of such 
thrilling emotions as put him in possession of 
the genuine spirit, and full force of the tragic 
system. He weeps profusely at the imitated 



35 

sorrows and perplexities of the hero, and retires 
with an ineffable sadness and sympathy for the 
hapless image that still moves to the view of 
his enamoured fancy. He returns again, and 
again, to be the still more perfect subject of si- 
milar impressions. Is he not now a prodigy of 
fraternal kindness, and an angel of benevolence 
to some wide extended neighbourhood ? On 
the contrary, he becomes increasingly insensi- 
ble to the interests of his friends and family, in 
the habitual neglect of his duty towards them, 
and finally begins to lose all pity for himself, 
and accelerates his own destruction by a suc- 
cession of egregious follies. Nor is this fiction, 
but fact ; as the cases, were it requisite, could 
be readily produced. Few, I believe, who are 
thoroughly acquainted with the history of any 
given theatre, will be unable to point out num- 
bers of such instances. Suppose the above un- 
happy character be not thus demoralized by his 
attendance at the theatre, still he is himself an 
evidence of the inefficiency of tragic emotion 
as to its alleged value in the cultivation of his 
pity. 

On the other hand, the existence of this pas- 
sion, in its happiest developement, among thou- 
sands of excellent and valuable men, who, to 
say the least, have never formed the habit of at- 
tending the theatre, seems still further to nar- 
row the importance of tragedy as to this parti- 



cular view of its power. The great Howard is 
an instance of the most genuine and finished 
sensibility, but this was not acquired at the the- 
atre ; his religious principles, as well as his be- 
nevolent pursuits, precluding at least his habi- 
tual appearance at such an amusement. As 
some, however, may observe, that single instan- 
ces prove nothing, I ask, (and the argument 
entitles me to ask), are those, in general, who 
frequent the theatre, distinguished above others 
for a purified, and rational, and useful tender- 
ness of feeling ? And have the most eminent 
benefactors of mankind, speaking of them as a 
body, owed their eminence, as far as a moving 
pity has contributed to form their character, to 
an attendance on the theatre ? And, on the 
other hand, are the enemies of the theatre, 
viewing them at large, more obviously and de- 
cidedly the subjects of an uncharitable and ob- 
durate kind of feeling than its friends ? If all 
this must be denied, we have then a right, (at 
least I think so), to conclude, that tragedy is 
not possessed, in any tangible degree, of that 
celebrated property of purifying the passions 
which, it would seem, has made its most shin- 
ing figure in the writings of literary men. 

Mr Twining, perhaps the most sagacious 
and candid of the commentators on this sub- 
ject, is by no means confident. Having stated 
his opinion, he modestly submits it to the judge- 



37 

merit of his philosophical readers. And thus a 
doctrine, that assumes a pompous character of 
profundity and utility, in the theories of the 
drama, is reduced, even by the discrepancies 
and concessions of its friends, to nothing, or 
next to nothing ; at least as far as relates to its 
practical bearing on the moral improvement of 
mankind. But if the virtues, after this flooding 
of the soul with pleasure, are said to grow of 
themselves, unknown to the understanding, or 
will, or conscience of the moral agent, I think 
we shall then be justified in saying, that there 
is even such a thing as theatrical enthusiasm ! 
Indeed, considering what are the component 
parts of moral character in the generality of 
tragedies, it might seem that pity would be 
even pernicious, melting the soul to the love of 
the hero, and endearing his evil qualities, if not 
his crimes, to the audience. To conclude this 
topic, I presume, that a very superior mode of 
cultivating this amiable passion, is, frequently to 
visit the abodes of real sorrow, and on the scene 
of deeper grief than the sufferer will or can ex- 
press, to drop our genuine charity, " Weeping 
" with them that weep." 

But, in the second place, the stage is said to 
be of great use, because, by its pictures of cha- 
racter, it awakens our instinctive approbation 
of virtue, and detestation of vice. When it is 
ascertained, with precision, that such feelings 



38 

are strictly instinctive and natural, apart from 
tuition, and the light and power of heaven ; 
still it will be necessary that the spectator 
come to the theatre with his instinct unbiased 
and uncorruptedy else where is the probability 
of its favourable excitement ? Would one who, 
through error, (to use a soft word,) believed it 
right to kill the body for the sake of the soul, 
detest the sight of a martyred heretic? And 
will he who is attached to a certain line of con- 
duct by vice, relinquish it from seeing a few in- 
stances of its character and mischief imperfect- 
ly represented on the stage, while, after having 
felt the unhappy consequences of his folly a 
thousand times, he never thought of an amend- 
ment? 

But should we allow this instinct, how base- 
ly must it be decoyed, and bribed, and con- 
founded, by gilded exhibitions of crime in ma- 
ny principal characters on the stage, which are 
obviously designed, or from the interest they 
excite are calculated, for imitation ? This is 

THE GRAND EVIL OF THE THEATRE. The Hlles 

of the drama have not yet prescribed the pro- 
per limits to the acting of moral evil, and the 
poets have made most ample use of the licence. 
They go too far, and still not far enough. We 
detest Iago, but we are pleased with Falstaff. 
Here again we have the concessions of the 
mightiest advocates and critics of the drama. 



39 

The Stagyrite himself, according to Twining, 
" admitted, with Plato, the danger of poeti- 
" cal, embellished, and flattering exhibitions of 
" vice." Dr Johnson has observed, " Lotha- 
" rio, with gaiety which cannot be hated, and 
" bravery which cannot be despised, retains 
" too much of the spectator's kindness. It was 
" in the power of Richardson alone to teach 
" us at once esteem and detestation ; to make 
" virtuous resentment overpower all the bene- 
" volence which wit, and elegance, and cou- 
" rage, naturally excite ; and to lose at last the 
" hero in the villain. ,, He adds elsewhere, 
*' There is always danger, lest wickedness, con- 
" joined with abilities, should steal upon es- 
" teem, though it misses of approbation." 

Indeed, this species of effect is so powerful 
and certain, that it seems to be a rule, in the 
formation of the characters, to supply the defi- 
ciency of the hero as to estimable qualities, by 
adorning him with such as are great and splen- 
did j purposely to excite that interest in his 
favour which otherwise would be sunk and 
lost.* And the author of an Essay on the 
Theatre^ after having given us critical rules 
for composing plays, subjoins this admis- 
sion : " Our dramatic writers seem to have 
" made it their business to familiarize their au- 

* See Twining, Note 1.55. f Lond - H60. 
F 2 



40 

" diences to vice, and we need make no doubt, 
" that the immorality of the stage has greatly 
" contributed to that universal depravity of 
" manners, which is but too visible among all 
" ranks of* people/' I ask, can the most per- 
fect puritantsm dictate a more dreadful sentence 
against the theatre than has been here delibe- 
rately promulgated by the pen of one of its most 
intelligent and fast friends ? 

In the third place, — Ridicule is another boast- 
ed moral engine of the drama. However this 
may be legitimately applied to the foibles of 
mankind, I think there can be no question of 
the monstrous incongruity and perniciousness 
of a ridiculous personation of crimes upon the 
stage. What ! will any one be cured of drunk- 
enness, and swearing, and cheating, and lying, 
by laughing at those vices, either in himself, or 
in a ludicrous imitation of them ? This is in 
such perfect opposition to the Christian Scheme, 
that nothing can be more so. Let any one con- 
template the remorse, the shame, the grief, the 
contrition, contained in the Scripture represen- 
tations of repentance, and judge whether such 
opposite modes of amendment can possibly ex- 
ist combined in the same character ? Heathen 
nations have been known to act on a far more 
philosophic view of human nature ; and Taci- 
tus ascribes the virtue of the ancient Germans 
partly to their never using ridicule in reference 



41 

to crimes, but always holding them up to utter 
abhorrence.* Hear again the concession of a 
most distinguished patron and exquisite judge 
of the theatre : — " What is now held the fit 
" subject of comic mirth and ridicule in Christian 
" theatres, was never employed but to stir up 
" the utmost horror and commiseration in the 
" heathen. The falsehood of the wife or hits- 
" band has given occasion to noble tragedies ; 
" but a Scipio and a Lelius would have looked 
" upon incest or murder to have been as proper 
" subjects of comedy. "t 

Supposing, in some cases, and under certain 
circumstances, the language, not the dramatic 
action of ridicule, should be admitted as to 
crimes, still the pleasantry of the thing would 
belong to the censor, and not to the criminal, 
who ought to feel the application in the excite- 
ment of remorse and shame ; for in all instances 
of ridicule, if, when you laugh at the faults of 
another, he himself joins in the laugh, you are 
confounded, and the merriment is now at an 
end, as evidently useless, or probably pernici- 
ous. I here exclude dramatic action, and recur 
to the scale mentioned in the first section. 

Nearly allied, if not essential to the ridicule 
of the stage, is comic humour. But what does 

* "Inter illos nemo vitia ridet nee corrumpere et cor- 
rumpi seculum rocatur." 

f See Hurd's Horace, vol. \. p. 114. 



42 

the highly gifted writer, just quoted, deem es- 
sential to this humour, at least to that which is 
most popular on the English stage ? His words 
are these : — " The historian of Peru tells us, 
" that there were no obscenities in their co- 
" medy ; and an encomiast of China pretends, 
" that there is not so much as an obscene word 
" in all their language. I am sensible, that 
" though indeed, these must needs be consider- 
" able abatements to the humour of their 
" comic scenes, yet their ingenuity might pos- 
" sibly find means to remedy these defects by 
" the invention and dexterous application of 
" the double entendre, which on our stage, is 
" found to supply the place of rank obscenity, 
" and, indeed, to do its office of exciting 
" laughter almost as well."* From the sacred 
profession of this vigorous writer, I am willing 
to believe, that he could not in the least ap- 
prove of the adoption of such means, in a pub- 
lic audience, to mend the morals of society, 
though his words might seem to bear this un- 
happy construction. His authority, however, 
as conceding the fact of this adoption, is such as 
no friend of the drama can dispute ; and I 
leave it to the judgement of all good and candid 
men to say, whether, by the employment of 
such a species of ridicule, the sanctity of public 

* See Kurd's Horace, vol. I. p. 251. 



43 

morals is likely to be well secured and pro- 
moted. 

Fourthly, — Great stress is laid on the moral 
sentiments contained in plays. Is instruction 
the object of those who attend the theatre ? 
They candidly confess it is not. Is that in- 
struction afterwards remembered and dwelt up- 
on in conversation ? Yes, when the propriety of 
this amusement is contested ; then, but not till 
then, they abstract it, with some difficulty, from 
the rest of the piece, by way of vindication ; 
shifting the defence to a plea to which they 
have no claim, as those who indulge in extra- 
vagant dress tell you, it is good for trade. 

The piquant amusement which stamps the 
character of the stage forbids any solemn recog- 
nition of religious considerations. Tragico- 
medy is condemned by the rules of dramatic 
writing, because with the strong tide of one 
sort of feeling, that of its opposite* is met in a 
manner too abrupt and violent, to the distress- 
ing confusion of both. Transferring the prin- 
ciple to the moral view of plays, it answers 
equally to good taste and experience, that the 
solemnities of religion should not be mixed up 
with loose recreations, such as light music, &c. 
It follows, that the moral sentiments of the 
theatre can never be presented in a genuine 
light, and as fixed upon a true basis. They 
are not drawn from the pure fountains of the 



44 

Sacred Scriptures, and are therefore mixed up 
with much of dangerous error in relation to the 
principles of morals ; and, supposing them to be 
unimpeachably sound, yet the points to which 
they approximate are comparatively few, and 
those by no means of the first importance. 
Nor are they sanctioned, and riveted upon the 
heart and conscience, by any serious and direct 
recognition of divine authority, and of the aw- 
ful tribunals and appointments of eternity. In- 
deed, moral sentiments are not to be found at 
all in many long acts of the most popular pro- 
ductions. I speak generally. The exceptions 
are, however, so extremely few, that though, 
collectively, they might impose upon the mind 
by their absolute extent, yet given in their re- 
lative proportions, as parts of an immense 
whole, they would diminish almost into no- 
thingness. 

Are we nQt also in much danger of omitting 
to discriminate between morality and that which 
is merely intellectual. The antients sometimes 
used the terms good and bad in a wider sense 
than was correct, or safe, as to morals ; reckon- 
ing wisdom and eloquence among the virtues, 
and what was trifling and mean, among the 
vices. Who can help smiling at the moral 
virtue of walking with stateliness along the 
streets of Rome ?* A little of the same inaccu- 

* See Cicero De Of. 



45 

racy has crept into our own language, especial* 
ly as used by ignorant and vicious men when 
speaking under the influence of strong preju* 
dice, either for or against the subject of their 
observations. Where is the morality of Shake- 
speare's beautiful description of Dover Cliff 5 
and of an infinity of other passages in the same 
great author ? His intellectual beauties are 
great and numerous, but the pure moral of his 
works, when sifted from the mass, will be re- 
duced within a very narrow compass ; nor is 
this at all surprising, if, as Dr Johnson thinks, 
" He wrote without any moral purpose/' The 
indiscriminate perusal, therefore, of such mixed 
productions, by young persons, unadmonished 
and uninstructed, as to the difficult and dan* 
gerous path which leads through this enchanted 
ground, must be attended with such hazard as 
no Christian parent would wish to put in the 
way of a beloved child* 

And is not superior instruction to be obtain* 
ed elsewhere, without the great moral risk and 
danger which all parties agree to be connected 
with the theatre ? Is it wise to take the danger- 
ous side in a doubtful case of great importance ? 
But the good things are usually lost in the pre- 
ponderance of the evil things, and in the amus- 
ing effect of the whole. Again, those who plead 
these good things, forget to balance them with 
another kind of instruction, with which they are 

G 



46 

often found in artful combination — the instruc- 
tion, by precept or example, how to manage an 
intrigue, to subvert the authority and elude the 
vigilance of a parent, to cheat a creditor, or to 
hatch some conspiracy against a magistrate or 
a sovereign. The amazing talent and dexteri- 
ty with which these projects are conducted, 
through the invention of the poet, are not often 
equalled in the history of real corruption. And 
to teach the younger part of an audience the 
art of expressing the passions is often danger- 
ous, were it only from the principle, that a fa- 
cility in such kind of expression re-acts with 
strengthening power on the passions themselves. 
The question then, is, whether the virtuous 
part of plays in general, is such as to counter- 
act their native tendency, or turn them to ad- 
vantage ? 

Indeed the good things of a play, it is to be 
feared, are frequently the worst ; as they iden- 
tify themselves with the whole tissue of the 
piece, and lend the authority of truth and sanc- 
tity to error and iniquity. At the close of a 
drama, which has entertained the audience with 
living pictures of vice, some fine moral is sug- 
gested* which, like Satan as an angel of light, 
sheds a deceptive radiance over all that has pre- 
ceded, and bribes the conscience of the unwary ; 
who are now very willing to believe, that they 
have been most virtuously employed, instead of 



47 

seeking nothing but their own gratification, 
Still, the common observation is, " There are 
" many good things in plays." Granted. But 
where is the argument ? So there are genius and 
morality in Don Juan, and the writings of Lord 
Rochester j yet who will say this justifies the 
publication of such trash ? 

Lastly, — A profound principle of dramatic 
operation lies in the ideal character of the 
whole ; the truth of history, which dwells on 
such instances as are particular and defective, 
being rejected ; and the abstract of nature being 
adopted, to furnish pictures of far nobler pro- 
perties and dimensions than can be seen in the 
world of reality. This the drama has in com- 
mon with the other arts of imitation. The 
principle is important, when legitimately ap- 
plied, and gives to the mind the conscious 
proof of its own eternal destination, where 
alone it can find objects vast as its loftiest de- 
sires. The colossal statue, the pyramid, and 
every other instance of imaginative grandeur 
give a swell to the soul, and accustom it to ex- 
pansion ; thus squally imparting to it vigour 
and refinement. 

In the drama, however, the principle is car- 
ried to excess ; the entire subject, and scene, 
and action, being raised so high above ordinary 
life as to prove too much for human weakness, 
producing an intoxication of the mind which 

g 2 



48 

often leaves behind it vacuity, imbecility, a 
contempt for the common allotments of Provi- 
dence, and an extreme disinclination to the 
plainer, and self-denying duties of social rela- 
tionship. Hence, if the imagination should 
have been pre-disposed to extravagance, cer- 
tain ruin is the consequence. A person of this 
description, after leaving the theatre, feels a 
mighty inclination to transact business on the 
high ground of dramatic existence, and to buy 
and sell in blank verse. 

The principle has its bounds, like every other 
source of pleasure and improvement. Again I 
recur to the scale, and observe, that a much 
more extended accumulation of imaginative ex- 
istence may be advantageously presented to us 
in writing, than would be at all safe and proper 
in an artificial realization belore a promiscuous 
audience ; where, at least in many instances, 
neither the level of the intellect, nor the state 
of the mora) principle, could sustain the over- 
whelming weight of the general impression. 
The truth is, in dramatic characters, the moral 
evil is drawn out into such dimensions, is so 
frequently the subject of the action, and yet re- 
ceives so much of interest from nobler qualities, 
that the auditor becomes more familiarized with 
vice than is safe and proper ; and when oppor- 
tunity shall tempt, he scorns to be confined 
within the bounds of vulgar life ; his love must 



49 

be romantic, his resentment must be dreadful, 
his ambition must be Roman, 

The popularity of the drama leads to mon* 
strous abuses of the ideal property in question ; 
multitudes of writers being brought into opera* 
tion, who are nearly destitute of the genius, and 
of the knowledge of mankind, which are neces* 
sary to a just conception of character, Hence 
poetic taste is outraged, and morals endangered, 
with a frequency that cannot fail to produce 
the most fatal results. It is not so with other 
arts. If, for instance, the works of the sculp* 
tor shew not something of the true ideal and 
perfection of his art, men of cultivated minds, 
instead of purchasing his statues, will utterly 
discourage him. But any thing in the form of 
a play will be applauded, provided it be stimu^ 
lating ; whatever be the nature, or tendency of 
the interest excited. The stage abounds, in 
consequence, with dramatic characters con* 
structed as by perfect chance, and with a wild- 
ness of combination in regard to moral proper- 
ties, which sets truth, and consistency, and 
good effect at < absolute defiance. This is a 
fruitful source of that most dangerous display 
of character, already noticed, in which great 
virtues are seen to associate with the worst of 
principles, and sometimes with their opposite 
vices ; leaving the false impression on the igno* 
rant and unwary, that with such vices one may 



50 

still properly assume the designation of a good 
man. On this subject, the uninformed reader 
may be satisfied, by selecting almost any chief 
character of the drama, and applying to it the 
authoritative doctrine of Christian morality. The 
very touch of this doctrine, I presume, will be 
like that of Ithuriel's spear. 



IV. Defensive Observations of the Advocates of 
the Theatre considered. 

Attachment to the stage, or to the opinion 
which defends it, is frequently maintained by 
those who feel a manifest conviction of its im- 
propriety. I say manifest, because with regard 
to such, in controversy, as already mentioned, 
acrimonious observations, contempt, and an al- 
most total avoidance of the leading arguments 
adduced against the theatre, sufficiently be- 
token the suspicions of their judgement ; and 
their own subsequent confession has often put 
the fact beyond dispute. With views thus en- 
lightened, many have yet resolved never to for- 
sake the scene of their guilty pleasures, till the 
avenging fire of heaven, predicted by their own 
consciences, (for whatever be the character of 
the stage, such have been their sentiments re- 
specting it), should overwhelm them with de- 
struction. Others have lingered on the plain 



51 

with an enamoured reluctance ; and by the in- 
genuity of the pleadings to which at last they 
have had recourse, evinced how high has been 
the preference of the heart for this enchant* 
ment, even when it stood in convincing con- 
trast with the decisions of reason. The follow- 
ing are the principal efforts of their retreating 
strength. 

In the first place we are told, that " Some 
" good people attend the theatre." The ob- 
jector ought precisely to inform us what he 
means by good, as applied to character. We 
should then possess a fair chance of meeting 
this objection. Do those who evidently rank 
among the best of mankind, both as to piety 
and usefulness, resort to the play? Will any 
one do so in proportion to his advancement in 
moral excellence ? Besides, can good people, so 
called, do no wrong ? How often have we heard 
this language, " I used sometimes to attend the 
" theatre, but my conscience always smote me 
" for it?" 

The principle, however, of this common ob- 
jection, is obviQusly false and dangerous ; be- 
cause the doctrine and spirit of Christianity 
ought to regulate human conduct, and that 
conduct must never determine, though some* 
times it may illustrate our interpretation of the 
rule. That numbers who attend the theatre do 
also go to church, and observe various forms of 



5$ 



religious duty, is acknowledged. But does this 
prove the innocence of theatrical amusements ? 
I have often thought, that some pious individu- 
als miss their way in appealing to such persons 
thus, " How can you consistently enjoy the 
" play, and then retire to your prayers ?" The 
truth is, the prayers of some people can consist 
with any thing. Of this we have a striking in- 
stance in the case of a personage of high rank, 
from whose private letters, produced in court 
against him, it appeared, that he could bow his 
knee in secret, and pray for the partner of his 
continued guilt ; and who, at the time when de- 
tected in his crimes, declared, " That he would 
" take his Bible oath in opposition to the charge" 
which he expected would be brought against 
him.* The deceitful snares of the human heart 
exceed all imagination ; and danger must in- 
deed be near when that heart becomes its own 
legislator. 

Another observation is> " If plays contain 
u dangerous topics and allusions, so does the 
" Bible ?" Might then every author introduce, 
Without just cause, such things into his writings^ 
pleading Scriptural precedent? The poets might 
as well vindicate some improper parts of their 
public dialogue from the example of the private 
medical consultations of physicians and sup- 

* See Remarkable Trials, vol. II. p. 40,— Lond. 1780. 



53 

geons. But comic humour will not be found 
in those portions of the Sacred Scriptures re- 
ferred to by the objector. Writings ought to 
be examined with due regard to the spirit and 
intentions of the writer ; and a halo of the 
brightest sanctity hangs over every subject of 
that inestimable Book, when the whole is view- 
ed in the grand connexion and scope of its 
parts. Nor were the topics in question design- 
ed by the inspired writers to be acted on a 
theatre. If so, I recur to the scale for proof of 
the absurdity of this objection. 

Again, " If the stage be unsuccessful as to 
*' usefulness, so is the pulpit." This is by no 
means owing to any integral part, or native 
tendency of the Christian system, but princi- 
pally to that repelling state of the mind which 
we have already noticed. This cannot be said 
of the theatre, whose general ministrations we 
have shewn to be pernicious, and which has re- 
ceived into its character, if not its essence, the 
mischievous operation of immoral exhibitions. 
Besides, the body of a theatrical audience comes 
not within the % sound of Christianity ; and, 
therefore, religion has not a fair chance as to 
such, of demonstrating her power and excel- 
lence. If, however, it appears that the audience 
at church or chapel, is more virtuous on the 
whole than that which attends the theatre, the 
objection loses much of its point ; and our tri- 

H 



54 

umph is complete when the friends of the stage 
are asked, Where are the unquestioned facts 
which prove the moral usefulness of your sys- 
tem ? Where are your converted infidels, your 
reformed rakes, your improved philanthropists ? 
Of these Christianity can produce her thousands. 
It has been shewn that through some tendency 
or other, a great proportion of moral evil regu- 
larly emanates, in varying degrees, from the 
stage. Is it then at all probable that usefulness 
should issue from the same source ? " Can the 
" same fountain send forth both sweet waters 
" and bitter?" On the other hand, the world 
abounds with the most striking proofs of the 
practical importance of genuine Christianity. 

" But there are some who, if they go not to 
" the theatre, will resort to worse places." It 
is thus a famous advocate in the Scottish me- 
tropolis has vindicated duelling. He predicts, 
that its discontinuance would be followed by 
poisoning and assassination ;* which the reader, 
I presume, will take to be the essence of the 
most perfect Jesuitism ; of which a leading 
maxim is, — the end sanctifies the means. Be- 
fore the objection can tell upon the understand- 
ing, the arguments adduced on the evils of the 
stage must be disproved, and the system shewn 

* See Mr Jeffrey's Address to the Jury on the Trial of 
Mr Stuart. 



55 

to be safe and innocent ; for no degrees ofmo^ 
ral evil, however small in comparison, can be 
allowed, though with the direct intention of 
preventing the greatest crimes. The principle, 
if pushed, would go to vindicate the brothel, 
because, by possibility, that scene of wicked- 
ness might sometimes prevent murder. We ap- 
peal to the concessions quoted in this Essay, 
and to many others which might be collected, 
from the theatrical party; and to the whole 
history of the stage, as evidence, that the theatre 
itself is a perfect preparation of the senses and 
passions for such worse places, and furnishes a 
path the most direct and opportune to the cham- 
bers of crime and death. 

Once more : " The stage, like every thing 
" else, requires discrimination, and they are 
" persons of a weak mind who are injured 
" by it. Why, then, because of its abuses, 
" which are candidly acknowledged, should we 
" be deprived of this elegant amusement ?" Is 
not this saying in plain English, " Let the fools 
"' perish everlastingly, for aught I care ; if my 
" abstaining from the theatre would save a soul 
** of them, I would not abandon this classical 
* amusement." Most benevolently spoken ! 
So then a tempting occasion, to say the least ; 
an occasion of the temporal and eternal ruin of 
thousands ; an occasion which appears from' 
its history to have produced a mischievous ef- 

h C Z 



66 

feet, more or less, very regularly ; this dreadful 
occasion, with its consequences, must be perpe- 
tuated ; and for what ? As the price, forsooth, 
of an amusement ! Were the stage an institution 
of essential importance to society, its abuses, it 
is true, would be no sufficient reason for its dis- 
continuance. But how mighty is the balance 
between ruin and amusement! Can the man be 
found on earth who will affirm, that the advan- 
tages of the stage decidedly outweigh its mis- 
chievous consequences ? And, when thus found 
wanting, can it still find supporters in those 
who assume the benevolent designation of pa- 
triot, and of Christian ? Shall a parent allow his 
infant children to amuse themselves with torches, 
at the risk of their lives, merely because it is 
possible they may escape destruction ? And 
when some of them are burnt to death, shall he 
permit the others to resume the dangerous 
amusement ? 

It must be remembered, that the stage is a 
peculiar entertainment. Immense mischief lies 
in its compound character. As a composition 
it owes its existence to the corrupt invention of 
mankind. Let the parts be dissolved, and se- 
veral of them will lose much of their destruc- 
tive power, We condemn not all amusement ; 
yet if there be any other instance of the kind, 
which, like the theatre, is perpetually ruinous 
to multitudes of the souls and bodies of our 



57 

countrymen, while its highest character is that 
of mere amusement, as many of its friends are 
obliged, though reluctantly to admit, I hesi- 
tate not to say, that it ought to be abandoned. 
There is a material difference between the arti- 
ficial and tempting obtrusiveness of the stage, 
and multitudes of innocent enjoyments, which 
nature and Providence have furnished for our 
recreation. These too, indeed, may be pushed 
to excess, through the folly of mankind ; the 
other is doubly calculated to enchant and cor- 
rupt through its own nature, in connexion with 
that folly. 

When the stage is opposed, the votaries of 
amusement seem alarmed for human happiness. 
A severe wound is inflicted on their feelings of 
humanity. The pleasures of rational and ani- 
mated conversation, the interchanges of friend- 
ship, the charms of reading, the attractions of 
learning, and the beauties of creation, can by 
no means afford, in their view of things, a suffi- 
cient variety and pungency of entertainment. 
As to Religion, it seems to them as possessing 
nothing recreative or exhilirating. When its 
burdensome duties are over, the heart appears 
to sigh for some dram of re-invigoration from 
the more stimulating and extraordinary amuse- 
ments of the world. No medium can suffice. 
Nature must be put upon her highest mettle ; 
she must run, and leap, and fly, till recreation 



58 



itself is lost in the toils of the chase. Let the 
theatre be shut, and, with such individuals, it 
is as if the entire world of wit, and music, and 
eloquence, were at an end. 

If it should be said, that such remarks are 
mere colouring ; that a medium is admitted >> 
and that the above enumeration of innocent 
delights must be allowed to be more than suffi- 
cient both for variety and intensity ; I rejoice 
at the observation* and ask, why then is not 
the theatre expelled from the group* because 
of its undeniable and monstrous abuses ? Would 
the annihilation of this single pleasure be an in- 
reparable loss ? The objector himself replies 
no. On the contrary, I think, this annihilation 
would be an incalculable gain to the health, 
and wealth, and character, and domestic com- 
fort of multitudes in different ranks of society. 
Let common sense, and humanity, and con- 
science, decide on this one topic of a subject so 
important* 

We gladly allow the candour of the cotices- 
sions quoted in this Essay ; but the question is, 
what is their absolute amount? Do they not 
prove the existence, in the theatre, of an ex- 
tended, and organized, and uncorrected, and 
perpetuated system of immorality? if the 
stage have its use, let that use be shewn by a 
plain and rational theory, and by the produc- 
tion of tangible facts. Should the system be 



59 

purified, and rendered serviceable to society, 
the opposition it receives from the religious 
world would instantly cease. Let its sting be 
drawn, and no one would then object occasion- 
ally to amuse himself by admiring the beauty 
of its colours, and the gracefulness of its coil. 
But till this be effected, the innocent and inex- 
perienced, must be warned not to tread within 
the scene of its deceptive gambols. 

It has been said, — " That wit and humour 
" are given to man by a kind Providence, to 
" mitigate the ills of life." What then ? May 
not the same be said of multitudes' of sights, 
and sweets, and scents, and sounds, for the ex- 
travagant accumulation, and composition, and 
public participation of which, no theatres are 
built ? Because the delicacies of the confec- 
tioner have their appropriate use and pleasure, 
must we bring them by waggon loads into some 
immense building, and there assembling by 
thousands, devour them without measure, to 
the injury of our health? And all this too, 
because a beneficent Providence has supplied 
them ? Finding that it is natural for man to 
laugh, it would seem we must, in gratitude to 
the beneficent Author of this faculty, collect in 
vast multitudes to laugh in concert for three or 
four hours together ; laugh at impious viola- 
tions too of the sacredness of His name, and at 
imitated crimes committed against His " Just, 



60 



" and good, and holy law." " But all this is 
" so natural." And so it is to sail right before 
the wind ; and to seize, when hunger prompts, 
the first food that comes in our way, though 
perhaps it be the property of another as hungry 
as ourselves. 

Sir Walter Scott, in defending the stage, 
Bpeakt of " Those who entertain," he supposes, 
" a holy horror of the very name of a theatre ; 
" and who imagine impiety and blasphemy are 
" inseparable from the drama. We have no 
" room left," he adds, " to argue with such 
" persons ; or we might endeavour to prove, 
" that the dramatic art is in itself as capable of 
" being directed either to right or wrong pur- 
" poses, as the art of printing/'* 

This sarcastic use of the word holy, a term 
of the most awful significance, as the most in- 
attentive glance at the moral perfections, and 
law, and authority of God will demonstrate, is 
not in the style of decorum so usual and pecu- 
liar to this admirable writer. Impiety and blas- 
phemy are high degrees of wickedness, and are 
not unfrequently the crimes of the theatre ; but 
no one, I believe, imagines, that they are ne- 
cessarily blended with the essence of the dra- 
ma. It does not, however, follow, that inferior 
degrees of moral evil are by no means interwo- 

* See his Dissertation on the Drama, at the end. 



61 



ven with the system. We have already seen, 
that the living exhibition of undeniable rebel- 
lion against the Eternal Law-giver is essential 
to the existing stage. Whether it be possible to 
purify the system, is perhaps an enquiry which 
belongs to the facts of the case, rather than to 
abstract and theoretical conceptions of it. Who 
will point out the period when the drama was 
in a state of even tolerable purity ? When the 
majority of its pieces, of its doctrines, precepts, 
maxims, characters, accompanying circumstan- 
ces, and effects, were substantially good and 
commendable ? To talk of possibilities in a mat- 
ter of this vast importance, without producing 
facts, after an experiment of more than two 
thousand years, is strange indeed ! 

The allusion to printing ought to be justified 
by evidence that the stage is equally with that 
inestimable art, essential and important to the 
interests of society ; otherwise it is of no force, 
because, supposing the theatre be capable of re- 
novation, it is actually abused, and that confess- 
edly by all parties to a considerable extent. As 
to the declaration — " We have no room left to 
argue with such persons," — it may be asked, 
are there no common principles on which they 
may be met ? Or does the author deem them 
to be so deeply enthusiastic as to banish all 
hope of succeeding with them in a rational dis- 
putation. This is to assume the question ; con- 



62 

eluding, that he who is decidedly hostile to the 
theatre must, of course, be in the wrong. I 
think this shews, that the author himself is the 
man with whom there is no room to argue. 

But had he condescended to make the at- 
tempt ; and had he added unequivocal and for- 
cible instructions to the body of dramatic ma- 
nagers and actors, successfully teaching them 
to effect that reformation which he believes to 
be so practicable, he would then, as I imagine, 
have done infinitely more to promote the true 
happiness of mankind, than is likely to be effected 
by all the poems, and tales, and antiquarian re- 
searches he has ever written. These indeed 
have their amusing effect, their chaste and 
thrilKng charm ; and what is more, they have 
some tendency to embue the public mind with 
sentiments of genuine loyalty ; but viewing the 
existence of man as running out into a line of 
interminable duration, — which unfashionable 
view, our reason assures us, is the only accu- 
rate admeasurement of his being, — I cannot 
but regret, that this popular and competent 
writer has not added to his numerous works, 
some tract of w^popular, but of super-eminent 
importance, for the purpose, if possible, of 
amending the stage ; and of preventing the 
temporal wretchedness of innumerable families, 
and the eternal destruction of innumerable 
souls. But I must stop short. These are 



63 

sounds which, with many, are too vulgar and 
too senseless to excite any other feelings than 
those of disgust and contempt. This author, 
with his beautiful tales, will no doubt remain 
the unquestioned friend of humanity, for he 
soothes our ills with sports. This poor pam- 
phlet must expect to be denounced as harsh 
and misanthropic. 

Suppose the stage to be completely reform- 
ed, and to continue equally popular,— a thing 
impossible in a corrupt state of society, — it 
would then in its fundamental principles he 
quite another thing compared with the present 
theatre. This would not be a reformation, but 
a substitution of one species of system for 
another. Yet were the pieces pure and good, 
a reference to the scale, I think, would shew, 
that the action, the costume, the obtrusive ex- 
hibition of the female figure, the playfulness of 
manner inseparable from this description of 
amusement, would be dangerous, and at per- 
fect variance with true christian feeling. It 
does not indeed appear, that amusement ought 
at all to be the subject of expensive public in- 
stitutions, and of large public assemblies, regu- 
larly convened, that they may enter systemati- 
cally and heartily into the spirit of a jest, or of 
sensations merely gratifying. This is to lift 
the thing far above its proper rank in human 
concerns. It is like erecting a magnificent 

i 2 



64 

college with its appropriate statues, and its 
qualified professors, for cultivating the noble 
art of entering a drawing-room with peculiar 
grace. In proportion to this elevation will be 
the decaying influence of institutions of real 
and indispensable importance. 

" But has not the drama its deep and beau- 
"tiful principles; is it not founded in nature; 
" partaking of the genuine character of truth and 
" science ?" It is no doubt curious, that while 
sympathy in real life has much of pain connect- 
ed with it, a similar sympathy produced by 
fiction should impart un mingled pleasure. Mr 
Hume accounts for this from the predominant 
impression ; an impression made by the perfect 
oratory of the details, which is extremely de- 
lightful, and imparts its own sweetness to such 
other species of the general feeling as would, 
separate from this magic, be distressing. But 
this is a corrupt application of an excellent law 
of nature. Who sees not, that predominant 
impressions may be greatly abused? What 
right have we to sweeten sin ? It is according 
to another admirable law of nature, that the 
cupidity of the miser increases with his years ; 
for we naturally grasp a valued possession in 
proportion as we perceive that we are likely 
soon to lose it. But who would say that covet- 
ousness is therefore a beautiful science ? Im- 
mense mischief may be produced by the grand 
impression of tragedy. With regard to come- 



65 

dy, as Rousseau has observed, the pleasure of 
it is usually founded in the vices of the human 
heart. 

Our author's conception of a reformed stage 
may be partly gathered from his remarks in the 
Dissertation, on some popular dramatic pieces,. 
The applause he gives to Mr Maturin must 
be founded on Bertram. And John Bull is 
praised as one of the best and most perfect 
productions of its kind. Did the limits of this 
Inquiry permit, it would be easy to shew, how 
far these two dramas are from comporting with 
christian principles, and with that christian 
temper and spirit which ought even to pervade 
our recreations. We confidently refer the se- 
rious observer to make the analysis and com- 
parison for himself. As to the first, what pious 
mind can fail to be distressed at its hostility to 
the christian religion, the viciousness of its 
characters, and its outrage on dramatic justice ? 
So much at least for an imagined reformation 
of the stage. 

It has frequently been urged with a strange 
kind of triumph, — " Point out a single text of 
" Scripture which expressly prohibits the a- 
" musement of the stage?" In our turn we 
ask, — show us the text that expressly prohibits 
the negro-slavery of the West Indies ? Had all 
fche actual shapes and forms in which it is possi- 
ble for the elemental principles of wickedness 



66 



to unfold themselves, been distinctly noticed by 
the inspired writers, the effect would have been 
weakened, — the Bible would have been a work 
of more immense size than the statute book of 
England. But if the spirit and design of the 
Scriptures; and the inferences which may be 
rationally deduced from them as premises, are 
in direct opposition to the existing theatre, it 
will then be an amusement decidedly unlawful. 
This is freely conceded by the advocates of the 
stage. Now I leave the reader to determine, 
whether, from experience, observation, and the 
arguments here offered to the public, it does 
not appear, that the general strain and temper 
of theatrical amusements is completely hostile 
to the holiness, — the devotion, — the continual- 
ly subduing sense of the presence and majesty 
of God, — the awful apprehension of eternity, — 
and the extremely sensitive character of the 
moral conscience ; which, Christianity, not on- 
ly from its precepts, but from the dreadful and 
momentous grandeur of its arrangements, loudly 
demands ? 

This solemn state of the mind will never in- 
terfere with the joyous character of legitimate 
recreation ; but will perfectly coincide with it ; 
as the great law of gravitation, while it rests the 
universe upon its basis, never interrupts the 
more sprightly exhibitions of light and beauty, 
as witnessed in the dancing clouds, and in all 



67 

the varied decorations of a summer scene ; but 
receives them into its own harmonies, and gives 
them poise and temperance. Let such funda- 
mental laws, however, be counteracted by some 
electrical accumulation, or vacuum ; or by re- 
moving the foundations of some massive pile, 
and they will rise in fearful power to assert 
their own unalienable sovereignty. Thus let 
the man who has been in elevated communion 
with his God, and with the worlds of eternity, 
come forth from the sanctuary of his retirement. 
Is he now unfitted for the business of this life? Is 
he unsuited in his spirit for the banquet, where 
well selected guests, of kindred disposition with 
his own, enjoy " the Feast of reason and the 
" flow of soul ;" or for any of the numerous 
enjoyments which God himself has evidently 
furnished to soothe our passage to the grave ? 
We repel the charge of ascetic sullenness and 
gloom, and exclaim, he is not. Let him deli- 
berately pass from the throne of heaven to the 
theatre, and attend upon the shocking violations 
of Christian doctrine and piety exhibited, for 
instance, in Bertram, or Pizarro, or the Stranger, 
(plays of high popularity, and consequently 
proper specimens of the whole,) and will these 
two systems of general feeling shew no signs of 
mutual revulsion ; of vehement disruption, of 
the one from the other ? 

Again, will any one deny, that those great 



68 



and numerous evils of the theatre, which are 
specifically acknowledged in the foregoing quo- 
tations from its friends, are condemned by the 
most express letter of the Scriptures ? What ! 
is there no text against familiarizing whole au- 
diences with vice ; expressing rank obscenity, 
or, in its absence, the more delicate, but more 
destructive double meaning, before a promiscu- 
ous public ? &c. &c. The recollection of the 
reader will furnish him with the remainder of 
these sad concessions. 



V. Of the Argument drawn from Authority. 

Among great numbers who have recorded to 
posterity their decided opposition to the stage, 
as, in its general character, an evil of great mag- 
nitude, are the following : — 

Of Pagans, — Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, 
Solon, Isocrates, Plutarch, Cicero, Livy, 
Valerius Maximus, Seneca, Propertius, Ovid, 
and Tacitus. 

Of States and Sovereigns, — Themistocles, 
the Lacedemonians, the Massilians, the Ro- 
mans, Augustus, Nero, M. A. Antoninus, 
Constantine the Great, Julian the Apostate, 
Theodosius the Great, Valentinian, Gratian, 
and Valens. 

Scipio Nasica, termed the high priest of Ro- 



69 

man virtue, prevailed with the Senate to forbid 
the building of a theatre at Rome, as a corrup- 
tion from the Greeks, injurious to the antient 
morality, and more destructive to the state than 
Carthage. * 

Of Christian Councils, — those of Laodicea, 
Carthage, Eliberis, Collioure, Arles, Nice, 
Hippo, Paris, and the Lateran Council ; as 
also the Synodus Turconensis, the Synodus 
Lingonensis, and the Synod at Rochet. 

Of the Fathers, — Tertullian, Clemens 
Alexandrinus, St. Cyprian, St. Augustine, 
St. Cyril, St. Chrysostom, St. Jerome, St. 
Isidore ; Archbishops Bradwardine, Parker, 
Usher, Tillotson, and Secker ; Bishops Al- 
ley, Babington, Kennet, Andrews, Barclay, 
Stillingfleet, and Hall ; Doctors Reynolds, 
Griffith, Williams, Elton, Sparks, White, 
Bond, and Blair ; Judges Bulstrode, and 
Lord Chief Justice Hale ; the Rev. Messrs 
Venn, Cunningham, Milner, and Gisborne ; 
Mr Wilberforce, &c. &c. &c. 

Such is the phalanx of authorities drawn out 
against the stage. Now, I challenge the whole 
theatrical world, to produce an equal number of 
authorities, possessed of equal fame in their re- 
spective professions, equally capable of deciding 
on moral questions ; and who have left, on 

* Be Chit. Dei, Lib. 1. cap. 30. 
K 



70 

known record, testimonies equally clear and 
strong, all in favour of that which is the grand 
point at issue, — the moral tendency of the stage. 
I will venture to affirm, that no such army, dis- 
played in this precise manner, (and the argu- 
ment demands this precision), can possibly be 
produced. 

But I shall be told, that some of these per- 
sons have actually written in approbation of the 
stage. If their writings on this subject con- 
tradict themselves, that is not our fault ; and 
the champion of the theatre is at liberty, in 
drawing up his list of heroes, to take full ad- 
vantage of this circumstance. The testimonies 
opposed to the stage are ready to be produced ; 
and pretty strong ones they are, I can assure 
him, if he knows it not already. He must give 
me leave, however, to take the same liberty with 
his men. For I suspect he will lay a bold claim 
to Milton, Addison, Johnson, &c. whom we 
shall find, when considered with due interpre- 
tation, to be substantially, though not entirely 
on our side of the question. 

Milton speaks, indeed, of the moral proper- 
ties of tragedy ; but he expressly confines his 
panegyric to the tragedy of the antients. Ad- 
dison lamented the immorality of the stage ; 
and Dr Johnson is well known to have express- 
ed, though inconsistently, his abhorrence of the 
green room, and his contempt for the players. 



71 

These great authors were persons of the finest 
literary taste, which no doubt decoyed them in- 
to sentiments of undue attachment to the drama. 
It is true, they were moralists; but whether 
from their printed works, and more especially 
from their private lives, we may boldly infer, 
that they possessed a scriptural, profound, and 
uniform piety, without which every man, be his 
learning what it may, is so far unqualified to 
become an authority on this question, I leave 
the public to judge. Besides, let their drama- 
tic publications be considered, and I ask, had 
all other plays been equally pure in point of 
morals, what would have been the probable 
condition of the theatre ? What support would 
it have found? Would it now have had an ex- 
istence ? 

It is said that St Chrysostom used to sleep 
with the works of Aristophanes under his pil- 
low. But does this neutralize his eloquent op- 
position to the public acting of such plays ? 
Must all who read Horace approve of hearing 
his improprieties pronounced upon a stage be- 
fore a promiscuous multitude ? Nor is the au- 
thority of Plato destroyed by his opposition to 
poetry ; for he did not object to it as such, but 
on moral grounds connected with it. He ex- 
pressly allows of hymns to the Deity.* 

* See Vives on St Aug, 
K 2 



72 

As to the authority of certain persons of 
eminence in the Church of England, who have 
patronized the stage, I have only to request, 
that it he fairly balanced with that of others in 
the same church. If we keep within the limits 
of eminence in writing, we might confidently 
boast as to numbers. But when we come to 
that particular kind of weight which the case 
requires, I am satisfied the theatrical scale will 
be found greatly wanting. For instance, 
Bishops Hurd and Warburton appear, from 
the general character of their writings, to have 
made letters their profession ; and studies prac- 
tically religious, (I speak merely as to author- 
ship), occupied a very subordinate place in 
their consideration. On the contrary, Arch- 
bishop Tillotson, Bishops Babington, An- 
drews, and Hall, demonstrate by their works, 
that to impress religion immediately on the 
hearts and consciences of men was their pro- 
fession ; and literature, as such, was evidently, 
with them, an inferior subject of pursuit and 
of enjoyment. Now, which of these two class- 
es should we chuse to be umpire on a point of 
moral casuistry ? 

It will again be replied, that the Fathers pro- 
tested only against the scandalous pantomimes 
of the Pagans. There was indeed a distinction 
between them and the regular drama ; and St. 
Augustine mentions in one place, that the best 



73 

and most tolerable of stage plays were tragedy 
and comedy, which he calls poetic fables ; bat 
even to such, under the express names of poetic 
fables and comedies, he frequently, and decided- 
ly, objects. Sir Walter Scott allows, that 
they were subject to the same sweeping con- 
demnation with the public shows, because act- 
ed in the same place, and by the same perform- 
ers. He thinks, however, they were unjustly 
so condemned. And certainly if the regular 
drama was so innocent and useful as many of 
the moderns suppose, it is somewhat strange, 
that neither the Fathers, nor the Councils of 
the Church, had the honesty to except them 
from the general censure. Their perpetual aim 
was not the reformation but destruction of 
the theatre. I am inclined to believe that the 
Christians conscientiously condemned the 'whole. 
That they were really condemned, is acknow- 
ledged by another great friend of the theatre, 
who asserts, that the Fathers re-barbarized Eu- 
rope by their opposition to the stage ; which 
must of course be meant of tragedy and come- 
dy, and not of wicked pantomimes.* St. Cy- 
prian abominates the theatre because of the in- 
decent interchange of the dress of the sexes. 
And does not this exist on the present stage? 
The question comes to this : the Fathers either 

* See Annual Review on Styles on the Stage. 



74 

did, or did not condemn the regular drama, as 
well as the common shows. Let those who as- 
sert, that they did not, prove the position by 
plain historic testimony. If they did, then 
it only remains for the advocates of the stage 
to detract, if possible, from the weight of such 
existing authority. 

Is it probable the Fathers would have allow- 
ed the modern theatre? And w r as it not against 
the regular drama, that the Fathers of our Bri- 
tish Reformation, from Archbishop Parker 
downwards, have protested ? When such an 
army of distinguished Christians, the legiti- 
mate expounders of the faith, throughout a 
long line of ages, have strongly opposed the 
stage, it will be thought good presumptive evi- 
dence at least, that Christianity herself is its firm 
and changeless foe : " Christianity" Sir Wal- 
ter Scott observes, "from its first origin, was 
" inimical to the institution of the theatre." 
And such are the men, Legislators, Philoso- 
phers, and Fathers, who, if they lived again, to 
lift up their voice against the theatre, would be 
denounced as creatures of a weak mind, fanatics, 
and hypocrites ! But we rest not the cause on 
names. Even Euclid is no infallible authority 
for the result of a problem, apart from the pro- 
cess by which its truth is worked out. We re- 
cur to the arguments which directly relate to 
the nature and effects of the system itself. 



15 

Suppose there be no Scripture text, is there 
not some Scripture case, plainly applicable to 
the subject ? Let us make the enquiry. 

The theatre has given great scandal and of- 
fence to a large proportion of the christian 
world, for nearly eighteen hundred years. Sup- 
pose we allow, that, on this subject, such per- 
sons have been tinctured with enthusiasm - y 
thousands of them have yet been characters of 
undeniable talents, and learning, and piety. 
The friends of the stage, who sometimes blame 
their opponents for contracted and uncharitable 
sentiments, it is hoped will not imitate their 
bigotry, denying the christian name to all who 
sin against the theatre. Observe again, that 
this amusement is not pretended to be essential 
and indispensable to the happiness of society. 
Indeed, if it were so, what would become of 
multitudes of persons who never see a theatre; 
for instance, the whole of the agricultural 
classes of this, and other countries? 

Now, suppose the learned apostle of the 
Gentiles lived amongst us ; and, from an ex- 
quisite taste for. the beauties of dramatic po- 
etry, should approve of the stage as an inno- 
cent amusement ; still, what would probably 
be his sentiments on the subject of offence ? 
Would he, who said, " If meat make my bro- 
" ther to offend, I will eat no flesh while the 
" world standeth ;" would he insist on the 



76 

propriety of continuing the theatre, although 
it should occasion grief and displeasure to many 
thousands of his christian brethren ? 

But I am told, that this is not the meaning 
of the case; that by causing a brother to of- 
fend, is understood to signify, the occasioning 
his fall into sin, by means of an example strict- 
ly good in itself, though not absolutely neces- 
sary ; but which, through weakness, he per- 
verts to his own destruction. I admit the in- 
terpretation ; and will here apply it to the the- 
atre with undemurring confidence. 

Now it is expressly declared by the advocates 
of the stage, that its evil consequences have ari- 
sen chiefly from the peculiar intellectual and mo- 
ral weakness of individuals. To patronize the 
drama is to perpetuate such consequences ; for 
persons of this character, attending on the the- 
atre, are by no means few in number. Again, 
there are multitudes, as has already been ob- 
served, who, though they feel convinced that 
this amusement is dangerous and unlawful, yet 
allow themselves to be drawn into its vortex, 
not merely by the attraction of its pleasures, 
but also by the authority of eminent examples. 
Thus they attempt at least to lower the voice of 
conscience. Here then„ though iunocence be 
allowed to the patron, so far as he is conscious 
that the stage is not in its own nature sinful ; 
it is not always so with the man who follows in 



77 

his footsteps. But will it be imagined, that St 
Paul, whose feelings were so sensitive on the 
subject of occasioning the ruin of his weak bre- 
thren by the lawful use of flesh, which had been 
offered to an idol, supposing he asserted the 
innocence of the theatre, would countenance 
the stage in person, with the knowledge, that 
such patronage might be destructive to the 
souls of thousands; and all to promote his own 
amusement ? Would this accord with his casu- 
istry and example in the case just referred to? 

To conclude this topic : for my own part, I 
am satisfied, that there are several texts of 
Scripture directly at issue with every thing 
which bears the unquestioned characters of the 
existing stage. Of these I will only mention 
the commencing verses of the first Psalm,* and 
Ep. v, 3, 4.t 

Let these passages be examined, not as 
they appear in words, but as severally em- 
bodied in the living character, and as deeply 
imbuing the whole man ; and, I doubt not, 

* Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of 
the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth 
in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of 
the Lord, and in his law doth he meditate day and night. 

f But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, 
let it not once be named amongst you, as becometh saints: 
Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are 
not convenient : but rather giving of thanks. 

L 



78 

fhey will be found completely hostile to the 
theatre. And if this be denied, because the 
text does not specify this amusement in parti- 
cular; I shall expect, in the next place, to find, 
that the most abandoned sinners are agreed to 
evade all Scripture sketches of their own moral 
likeness, merely because their proper names are 
not legibly appended to them, 



VI. Farther Remarks on the Pretensions of the 
Stage. Conclusion. 



It must be observed, that this discussion re- 
lates to the moral question of the theatre, and 
not to its literature simply considered. The 
dramatic form of writing, not of acting, may be 
employed with good effect, as is evident from 
the splendid productions of Millman. Nor 
can it be denied, that the ancient drama in 
particular, is, to some extent, a repository of 
fine learning, and of fine taste : a vehicle of 
poetic genius of the highest class, and a source 
of intellectual refinement and pleasure to minds 
of a certain description. But may not all this 
be said of the heathen mythology in general ? 
Yet who would rebuild its temples, and act its 
vile and monstrous mysteries? The sublimities 
of learning, and the charms of literature, when 
connected with improper subjects, form a dan- 



79 

gerous temptation. Where the moral sensibility 
of the character is at all obtunded, in the same 
proportion, this temptation will effectually exert 
the magic of its power. If the depraved mind 
can sometimes be led to traverse the entire 
field of Sacred Truth, merely from the attrac- 
tion of its intellectual beauties, what mighty 
force may not be expected to storm the soul, 
when such attraction is joined with sentiments 
congenial to every sinful propensity of the 
heart ? Nor can it be surprising if, in our pre- 
sent state of moral frailty, this bewildering light 
should occasionally deceive the unwariness of 
good men themselves. This only proves how 
seductive are the finer and more unexceptiona- 
ble pleasures of the theatre. Still the system 
seems incapable of renovation, at least of such 
improvement as to render it safe and proper for 
the populace at large. 

It has been judged, that if genteel people 
will and must have this classical amusement, 
they ought to have their own private theatres, 
where, as at the opera, the multitude may be 
excluded from witnessing such scenes as are 
too powerful for their minds. In these private 
theatres, people of fashion, it is thought, might 
still assemble to behold each other ; as, with 
such, cum dignitate is frequently the chief joy 
of the theatre. Who would not sparkle in the 
box, and vie with the fairest ? For birds of 

l % 



80 



spirit always love to sing upon the topmost 
bough. And there the roarings of a popular 
audience might be avoided, — an audience which 
sometimes resembles, not a company of amiable 
beings, endued with reason and decency, but 
the monstrous personage of Madness, in the 
Hercules Furens of Eurtpides, appearing in her 
aerial car with a hundred heads, round which 
hiss a thousand serpents. An amusement this, 
much to be enjoyed by people of wisdom and 
taste ! — Such private theatres, it is true, would 
be lessening the evil ; but would they amount 
to a perfect cure ? 

What a shocking picture of the evils connect- 
ed with the London stage is drawn by Sir 
Walter Scott at the close of his Dissertation ! 
And what is the language with which he con- 
cludes it? " We notice these evils, without pre- 
" tending to point out the remedy" Alas, for the 
British theatre, when its best friends are incom- 
petent to devise a cure for its worst evils ! Had 
a cure been possible, I presume this chaste and 
candid writer would have been happy to pro- 
pose it. He does, indeed, observe, that the 
immense size of the London theatres increases 
the abomination ; but we respectfully refer him 
to the ratio of the same evils in the smaller 
theatres out of London, for proof, that the 
poison is not to be allayed ; is only to be resist- 
ed by its annihilation. Till this be accomplish- 



81 

ed, the quantity may be reduced, the quality 
will always be the same. 

If, after all, it shall again be asserted, " That 
" the theatre is the best school for polishing and 
" improving the manners of a people," I can- 
not but express some wonder, that, supposing 
this to be correct, it has not received its origin 
nd chief sanction from divine authority; for, 
admitting this eulogium, its cast of popularity, 
i connexion with its moral tendency, lifts it 
r above the common schools ; and in some 
acts above Christianity itself, and many 
r institutions employed for the improve- 
>it of mankind. Though they have been 
fitted, it would seem the theatre might have 
en expected to hold a distinguished place, in 
the appointments and regulations of the Sacred 
Book. But where is the divine commission for 
players to set up for public teachers of morality ? 
The honour of this grand invention was reserved 
for a company of rude peasants, who, sacrificing 
a goat to Bacchus, sang a drinking song to his 
praise, — -a song which was occasionally relieved 
by a talking interlocutor, and the whole set off 
by the striking faces of the actors, which were 
besmeared with the lees of wine. Hence, ac- 
cording to some critics, Tj>yy«c, wine lees, gives 
name to tragedy ; and ko^hv, to be saucy, or to 
revel, gives denomination to comedy. I think 
the Fathers did not reason justly in objecting 



to the theatre, merely on account of its heathen 
origin ; because, if the stage were intrinsically 
icood, this could be of no force ; but so far as 
this origin and this denomination serve to point 
out the nature of the thing, the argument is, no 
doubt, strongly subversive of the moral preten- 
sions of the drama. — There is no trace of the 
buskin to be found in any part of the Jewish 
history, before the dispersion, as appears from 
the elaborate work of Lewis on the Jewish An- 
tiquities, 

I also feel surprised at the practice of con- 
temning the profession of a player, — a profes- 
sion deemed so excellent. I say the profes- 
sion ; for as to individuals, we shall find some 
in all situations unworthy of approbation. But, 
that Christians have agreed to despise the sacred 
ministry, because it is occasionally tarnished by 
misconduct, is by no means true in fact. The 
very indignation and sorrow which they some- 
times express at the crimes of a minister, are a 
proof of the contrary. The same crimes in a 
player excite no surprise, no particular disgust ; 
still the friends of the theatre agree to scowl at 
the profession. Here is manifest inconsistency. 
It seems as if immorality in a player were ex- 
pected to result from his profession j for Vol- 
taire informs us, that a man, to be a good ac- 
tor, must have the very Devil in him ; still the 
profession is asserted to be good, and still it is 



83 

despised. How the truth eludes us here, like 
the shiftings of the ghost in Hamlet 1 

Greece was the principal exception to this 
general contempt for players, which is thus ac- 
counted for by St Augustine, that the Greeks 
happened to look upon them as the servants of 
the gods, and chiefly for this reason gave them 
honour. The Romans maintained a different 
view, and detested them. Sir Walter Scott, 
however, very properly complains of the evi- 
dent injustice of allowing and applauding play- 
ers, and yet despising their profession and their 
persons. Whether some secret misgivings as to 
the professed excellence of the system itself be 
not at the bottom of this, we leave to the judge- 
ment of the impartial observer. 

That the morality of this world, — principles 
of honour, — an amiable disposition, — and re- 
spectability of life and conduct, — is sometimes 
to be found among them, ought not in candour 
to be questioned; but is it not somewhat re- 
markable, that not a single actor, of eminence in 
piety, appears to have existed since the world 
began ? Other professions are not thus barren 
of the nobler productions of Christianity, as the 
most effectual means of forming the character 
to high degrees of excellence. Biography pre- 
sents us with the lives of soldiers, of lawyers, 
&c. who have been illustrious ornaments to the 
Christian name ; while we shall absolutely look 



84 

in vain for a solitary instance of a player, who, 
supposing him to have felt the renovating pow- 
er of religion, made it known to the world by 
those peculiar indications which clearly distin- 
guish it, in every case of eminence, from the 
godlesr morality of the infidel. This is the 
more extraordinary, as men of great research, 
when complaining of their frequent want of 
success in seeking to discover memoirs of the 
lives of biblical critics, and others of much 
worth and fame, have observed, that they were 
seldom at a loss to meet with the history of ce- 
lebrated actors.* 

We may observe, that an advocate of the 
stage, evidently a person of talents and can- 
dour, has just acknowledged to the world, that, 
" As a whole, the character of our actors is in- 
" finitely beyond the morality of our theatre" 't 
Let those lovers of the drama who have an ex- 
tensive knowledge of performers, mark well this 
declaration. It involves a contest to determine, 
between the professors of the art, and the cause 
itself, which is least immoral and pernicious ? 
Let us reason from the well-known facts of the 
lives of the actors. Is the system to be prefer- 
red ? Then how feeble must be its corrective 

* See the Preface to Townley's Illustrations of Biblical 
Literature. 

\ See New Monthly Magazine, No. XXXI. page 32. 



85 

power, when those at the fountain head of its in- 
fluence remain, as a body, confirmed in immora- 
lity? Arc! what must be its nature and pro- 
perties, when multitudes of individuals of well- 
known wicked habits can take such pleasure in 
it, ard with the liveliest relish, adopt it as the 
chief employment of their intellectual powers, 
and Hie ? Eat if this point must be determined 
in favour of the pi'ofession, I ask, in the name 
of wonder, what then must the system be ? 

It is observable, that when a player becomes 
indisputably pious, and forsakes his former evil 
courses, he instantly abandons his profession. 
To say that this alone proves him to be an ar- 
rant enthusiast, not only wears the colour of 
illiberality ; it also assumes the question as al- 
ready settled, and as indeed itself a fixed prin- 
ciple on which the theatre may be boldly de- 
fended. This may be dispatch in argument, 
but is it logic ? 

I wonder at another thing, and it is this, — 
that with all the magnified importance of the 
theatre, as a moral institution, we never see, in 
books on education, any directions to send a 
loose and disobedient youth, or a proud or un- 
chaste daughter, to the play-house, as a school 
of reformation. Nor do we hear from the lips 
of the aged and the experienced, (I refer to the 
friends of the theatre), the smallest counsel to 
this effect. Let those split this hair who can. 

M 



86 

I will now relieve the reader from the tedium 
of this Essay, and plead for its length the extent 
and importance of the subject. In the attempt 
to omit no capital consideration belonging to a 
controversy on which many volumes have been 
written, it will not be surprising if, to persons 
unacquainted with this copiousness, the argu- 
ment has seemed to be lengthened out beyond 
the necessities of the case. Others, I doubt not, 
will deem the whole to be sufficiently concise. 

The friends of the theatre will, perhaps, be 
under no alarm at the tactics here employed. 
We have assailed them, it is hoped, by the 
weapons of reason ; they, however, lie en- 
trenched in the stronger holds of passion. 
Some enquire not respecting any rational or 
moral ground of attachment to the theatre; 
and refusing to dispute the question, give rein 
to their propensities, regardless of the conse- 
quences. Others struggle for a time in argu- 
ment, hopeful of a conquest, and close with the 
free avowal of their fixed fondness for the dra- 
ma ; and what reply can be made to him who, 
collecting his whole strength, by one grand 
burst of resistance, confounds you with — / like 
it I Yet all are not so insensible to the mandates 
of reason ; and if only one parental pair should 
be reclaimed from their love of this dangerous 
pastime, by means of the arguments now offer- 
ed to the public, the good effects even of this 



87 

partial reformation may be felt in the line of 
such a family for ages to come. A result like 
this, though much beneath the notice of his 
opponents, would be a noble satisfaction to the 
writer, who indeed is happy to learn that al- 
ready this attempt has produced in some quar- 
ters a salutary impression. It is not pretended, 
that these pages are exempt from fault, written 
hastily, as they were, amidst a press of higher 
duties. The reasons in some instances may 
have their weaker parts ; but, I throw myself 
into the centre of their collective strength ; and 
if, on the approach of the foe, the whole should 
give way, still I shall fall without shame, and 
in the cause, too, of my country, being entirely 
conscious of the rectitude of my purposes. 

I would anxiously attempt, borne out by the 
principles adduced in this discussion, to rouse 
my beloved countrymen to a deeper abhorrence 
of an evil, which is, as I conceive, incalculably 
mischievous to the morals of society. I would 
use the whole force of a legitimate and fearless 
influence in opposition to its destructive sway. 
I would call ori British parents, by the tenderest 
yearnings of their affectionate solicitudes, and 
by the infinite importance of conferring an un- 
tainted education on the imperishable minds of 
their offspring, the culpable neglect of which is 
a cruelty not equalled by that of such mothers 
of antiquity as threw their children into a 

M 2 



88 

quenchable fire to Moloch ; I would call on 
persons of rank and opulence, by the awful re- 
sponsibility of their situation, providentially de- 
signed to give shape and tone to the morals of 
multitudes below them ; on the magistrates of 
the land, by the inestimable consequence of 
their personal example, even where they can- 
not legally exterminate an evil ; on the sacred 
ministers of religion, by the sanctity of their 
office, which binds them to oppose the whole 
breadth of its authority and power against every 
system which stands, like that of the theatre, 
so confessedly the pandar of iniquity ; on all 
these highly valued and respected classes of 
our extended and endeared population — I would 
call, as with the voice of a trumpet, beseeching 
them to revive in their minds a burning sense 
of the domestic and national, but, above all, of 
the eternal importance of the subject ; and ani- 
mating them to summon their respective forces 
to the field, and to fight against this citadel of 
vice with persevering unanimity and energy, 
till, by the help and benediction of Omnipo- 
tence, its foundations should tremble at their 
resistless attacks, and angels respond to shouts 
of victory mingling with the crash of its final 
demolition. 



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